


Sinfully Sweet

by saltythumbtack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Human AU, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Slow Burn, Tattoo Artist Lucifer, lawyer!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltythumbtack/pseuds/saltythumbtack
Summary: In which Gabriel's bakery is the best place to meet attractive dudes (who also happen to be Gabriel's siblings), Sam is just trying to get all his work done and maybe get laid and maybe fall in love, Dean is totally, absolutely, 100% straight until he isn't, and Charlie gives the worst (best?) advice ever.





	1. Cookies and Coffee

“Heya, Sammy!”

“Hey, Gabriel.” Sam replied, nodding to the man behind the counter. Gabriel ran one of the best bakeries in the city, and yet somehow always had time to make Sam a coffee (on the house, at Gabriel’s insistence) and ask how he was doing. Dean had once suggested that Gabriel was hitting on him, but Sam had laughed it off. Gabriel was cute, but the various boys who Gabriel spent his nights with made it pretty clear that Gabriel’s interest in him was purely platonic.

“Coffee, two creams, one sugar?” Gabriel asked, a cup already in his hand. Sam nodded, settling down at one of the tables near the window. “How’s the firm? Busting any criminals?” Gabriel asked, setting a steaming cup of coffee down in front of Sam, sliding into the seat across from him.

Sam laughed, cradling the cup, warming his hands. “Nothing that grand, Gabriel. They’ve got me filing paperwork, playing second fiddle to all the big-shots.”

“That’s a crime.” Gabriel said, gesturing at Sam with a coffee stirrer. “You look too good in a suit to keep you cooped up in an office. You should be out there, wooing juries with your good looks and fancy vocabulary.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Gabe.”

“Anytime.” Gabriel replied sweetly, winking salaciously at Sam. The bell above the door behind them chimed, and Gabriel hopped to his feet, his wide grin popping back into place effortlessly. “Hey, bro! How’s it hanging?”

Sam sipped his coffee, turning to see who Gabriel was talking. He nearly choked, spitting coffee all over the table. Gabriel didn’t notice, his attention focused on jabbering excitedly to the man who’d just walked through the door. The man who’d come in fixed Sam with an icy gaze, raising an eyebrow at Sam’s startled reaction.

“Oh, where _are_ my manners?” Gabriel cried, spinning around. “Sam, this is my brother, Lucifer. He’s the best tattoo artist in town, so if you ever want someone to shove needles repeatedly into your skin, I can’t recommend him highly enough.” He clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, which was an impressive feat, considering that Lucifer was almost as tall as Sam. “I’ll go grab us some drinks and snacks, and you two can get acquainted.” He practically bounced off to fetch the items, and how Gabriel always managed to be so energetic, Sam would never know. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the copious amounts of sugar Gabriel consumed every day.

“Gabriel tells me you’re a lawyer.” Lucifer said, sitting down across from Sam. Sam started slightly, the other man’s intense blue gaze catching him off-guard.

“Uh, yeah, I work for Shurley and Associates, in the city. You’re, uh, you’re a tattoo artist? How’s that?” Sam asked, shifting awkwardly. Lucifer’s stare was seriously off-putting. It somehow made Sam feel like he was fifteen years old, being interrogated by a teacher that suspected him of cheating on a test.

“It’s fun.” Lucifer said, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s creative, and I get a lot of freedom to do what I like with the designs. It’s a surprising amount of pressure, though. If I screw up, someone else is going to end up wearing that mistake on their skin for the rest of their life.”

“Yeah.” Sam said awkwardly, nodding. He wished Lucifer would stop staring at him, blink, do something other than scrutinize him with those ice-blue eyes. It didn’t help that Lucifer was, well, pretty damn good-looking. Not that Gabriel wasn’t attractive, but Lucifer was in a league of his own. Despite Gabriel’s calling Lucifer his brother, there was almost no resemblance between the two. Gabriel was short, soft, all smiles and quick wit. Lucifer was tall, lean, and no doubt muscular under his green canvas jacket and baggy t-shirt. Being around Gabriel was like being around an energetic puppy, but something about Lucifer screamed _danger_ to Sam and set him on edge. It was more than a little disconcerting, to say the least.

“Here we go!” Gabriel said brightly, setting down a tray of drinks and food in front of them. Pointing to each of the items in turn, he rattled them off with practiced ease. “Vanilla cupcakes with a semi-sweet chocolate frosting, chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting, chocolate-chip cookies, white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies, sugar cookies, and for our resident sugar-hater, a blueberry muffin.”

Lucifer smiled dryly, picking up the muffin. Sam groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Gabriel, this is way too much food. I haven’t even had dinner yet, and all of this will-”

“Sam Winchester, if you tell me that all this sweet stuff will spoil your appetite, you’re forbidden from ever coming back here.” Gabriel said, glaring at Sam. “Live a little! You’re a healthy young man, you can stand to eat cookies for dinner. Isn’t that what you kids do today, anyway?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re, what, five years older than me, Gabriel? I’m hardly a little kid.” He took a cookie nonetheless, because, really, Gabriel’s baking was incredible, and he wasn’t going to turn down free food.

“I bet there’s nothing little about you, is there, Samsquatch?” Gabriel replied around a mouthful of cupcake, grinning.

“You certainly wouldn’t know.” Sam retorted, raising an eyebrow in a challenging sort of gesture. 

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Ouch. Don’t be mean, Sammy. When have I ever done anything mean to you, ever? I’m a good person. I never do mean things.”

“What about that time you hired strippers for Michael’s 21st birthday party, which was being held at a church?” Lucifer interjected. “That was pretty spiteful.”

Sam stared at Gabriel incredulously. “You hired _strippers_ for a _church party_? How old were you?”

“Younger than was decent.” Lucifer answered, grinning widely at Gabriel, who was red-faced and spluttering.

Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world like a petulant child. “I invite you into my bakery, give you free, delicious things to eat, and this is how you return the favor? Shame on you, Luci. I should kick you out right now”

Lucifer shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the notion of falling out of favor with Gabriel. “I have a key, remember?”

“Damn.” Gabriel grumbled. He’d forgotten about that. He brightened up again almost immediately, shrugging amiably. “Well, it was worth it to see the look on Michael’s face. I never knew he was such a blushing virgin until he had sixteen strippers all trying to get into the church.”

“That was a good day.” Lucifer said fondly, smiling down at his muffin. Sam stared incredulously at both of them, his mouth hanging open.

“You hired _strippers_ for a _church party_?” Sam repeated, dumbfounded.

“You know, for a lawyer, you’re not very observant, are you?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow. It was obviously meant as a joke, but there was a note of steel in Lucifer’s voice that made Sam duck his head, his cheeks burning. 

“Be nice, Luci.” Gabriel said, frowning disapprovingly at his brother. Lucifer shrugged, unruffled by Gabriel’s stern tone. 

“It’s fine.” Sam said, waving a hand dismissively. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Gabriel likes to tell me how he makes latte-art dicks for all the people he wants to sleep with.”

Lucifer laughed quietly, his smile widening as Gabriel flushed.

“You both suck, you know that?” Gabriel grumbled, pouting. “You’re both banned for life, and I’ll never bake anything for either of you ever again.”

“Liar.” Lucifer and Sam said in unison. Sam glanced at his watch, then swore, standing hurriedly.

“Thanks for the coffee and sugar, Gabriel, but I’ve gotta run. I promised Charlie I’d call her.” He ruffled Gabriel’s hair affectionately, then held out a hand for Lucifer to shake. The blonde man’s hand was oddly cold, calloused, and had a surprisingly strong grip. 

“Charlie, huh? Got a special lady waiting for you?” Lucifer asked, lounging back comfortably in his chair. 

“Uh, no. I’m gay.” Sam said shortly, turning and exiting the shop at a slightly faster pace than normal. What had possessed him to say that, he didn’t know. Okay, maybe Lucifer was kinda hot, but that didn’t mean he’d be interested in Sam, or even in dudes, for that matter! Granted, if Lucifer was on good terms with Gabriel, then it was almost certain that Lucifer wasn’t against gay people. Gabriel was notorious for his sexual appetites, and he wasn’t exactly picky about who he slept with.

Still, that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d just dumped that tidbit of information onto Lucifer, a man he’d known for barely more than ten minutes. Sam knew he was a bit of a slut for tall, imposing blondes, but this was ridiculous. He had a case to work on and he was perpetually sleep-deprived; he didn’t have time for a relationship, especially not with the brother of one of his closest friends. He was being ridiculous. Lucifer probably wasn’t even interested in dudes.


	2. Not My Type

“Hey, Charlie.”

“What’s up, nerd?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at Charlie’s excited greeting. She reminded him of Gabriel sometimes, since both of them seemed to have unreasonable amounts of energy and be perpetually cheerful. 

“How’s sunny California?” Sam asked, not bothering to keep the teasing note out of his voice. “Meeting any beautiful women?”

“Oh, man, Sam, you don’t _understand_!” Charlie cried. Sam could picture her sprawled over one of her patchwork couches, her expression earnest as she professed her undying love for women, Star Trek, computers, and role-play. 

“Everyone here is so different than in Kansas. It’s sunny all year round, you sometimes see famous actors getting coffee, and everyone is obsessed with _kale_ for some strange reason. You’d fit in well with the vegan crowd. You’re all health nuts.”

“I am not a health nut.” Sam protested. “I just like to pay attention to what I’m putting in my body, that’s all. You’ll be jealous in twenty years that you never listened to me about all that fast food and vodka you had in college.”

“It was _college_ , Sam. It’s practically a requirement to eat Taco Bell at two in the morning and do vodka shots.”

“You know, I really don’t think it was.”

Charlie snorted derisively. “Yeah, whatever. You just don’t know how to have fun.”

“I do!” Sam protested. “I had plenty of fun. I just had it, you know...responsibly.”

“Mmhmm.” Charlie said. “Speaking of “fun”, how’s the firm? Has Crowley gotten your name right yet?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, he’s taken to calling me “Moose” lately. Apparently, my refusal to cut my hair, along with being really tall, reminds him of “those majestically awkward creatures.”” He lowered his voice to a growl, trying to replicate Crowley’s manner of speaking. Charlie burst out laughing, and Sam was forced to conclude that his attempt hadn’t been very successful.

“How about you?” Sam asked, settling down on his couch, letting out a sigh of relief as he stretched out over it. “How’s the job hunt going?”

Charlie sighed, the noise sending a rush of static across Sam’s phone. “I’ve gotten a few offers, but those are mostly for unpaid internships, and that’s not gonna work. I’m working at Starbucks right now, which is nice. I get a discount on coffee, so I’m able to feed my caffeine addiction. I’m thinking of hacking some company’s website and convincing them to hire me that way, because coffee is great and all, but I moved out here for opportunities, y’know? Lawrence is great and all, but living in LA has been my dream forever.”

Sam shrugged sympathetically. “You’ll find something soon, Charlie, don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Stanford Law Degree.” Charlie grumbled good-naturedly. “You’ve got a nice job at a nice firm. All you need now is a boyfriend and a dog, and then you’ll be sickeningly perfect. How _is_ the boyfriend hunt going, by the way?”

Sam flushed, clearing his throat. “It’s...not, honestly.”

“Mm.” Charlie said doubtfully. “Sure. What happened to the guy who runs that coffee shop? Gabriel, right? What’s wrong with him?”

Sam snorted. “Come on, Charlie. He’s not my type, and besides, he’s my friend. I don’t like him like that.”

“What exactly is your type, Sam? All you ever do is say that guys _aren’t_ your type.”

_Tall, intimidating blondes, apparently._

Charlie took his silence as agreement, and let out a triumphant laugh. “Ha, see! You need to get out more. You spent all your time in college studying, and now you’re spending all your time working. It’s not healthy, Sam. Young people shouldn’t spend all day cooped up inside, in front of a laptop, working on drafts of motions of lawsuits. You need to go out, meet people, have fun! You’re healthy enough that you can stand to drink too much and eat crappy bar nachos on the weekend if you want.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Charlie, I am perfectly happy with not getting drunk and going home with strange men. Gabriel’s just a friend, and no, I will not download Tinder. Why is it such a big deal to you, anyway? Don’t you have better things to do than worry about my sex life?”

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, I have better things to do, but I care about you, and besides, it’s fun to tease you. You’re a terrible liar. It’s a wonder you ever became a lawyer. What about Gabriel’s brother, the kid with the weird angel name? Cassiel?”

“Castiel.” Sam corrected her. “And no, I’d bet my kidney that Castiel is in love with Dean, so that’s not going to happy. Besides, _all_ of Gabriel’s brothers have weird biblical names.” Sam grumbled. “You know he’s got a brother named _Lucifer_ , of all things? I met him today.”

Charlie burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not!” Sam insisted, sitting up. “His name’s Lucifer. He’s this tall, blonde dude with blue eyes, basically as far from Gabriel as possible. He’s a friggin’ tattoo artist, if you can believe it. I think tattoo artist, criminal, and stripper are the only careers you can have if you’re name Lucifer. For a family as obsessed with biblical names as Gabriel’s, it’s a wonder they ever named a kid Lucifer. It’s just asking for trouble.”

“God, poor guy.” Charlie murmured. “That must’ve sucked, growing up in a religious household with a name like Lucifer. Bet he got in trouble a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Sam said, frowning. Now that he thought about it, other than the vast quantities of siblings, Gabriel never really talked about his family much. Sam couldn’t blame him. His family was screwed up enough as it was, and there were only four-well, three-of them. “But Lucifer didn’t seem like he was the type to take any shit. I’m pretty sure he could kill me if I looked at him wrong.”

“Sounds like he’s your type.” Charlie teased, and Sam felt color rising to his cheeks.

“No, he’s just-” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, he’s my type.”

“Yes!” Charlie crowed triumphantly. Sam smiled ruefully, picturing her fist-pumping the air, her eyes bright with excitement. “So, you’re gonna get his number, right? And you have to bring him out here when you come see me, so I can make sure he’s suitable for you.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ve spoken to him once, Charlie. Once. Besides, he’s probably not even interested in dudes.”

Lucifer was, in fact, interested in dudes. One dude in particular, as it so happened. After their run-in at the bakery, he’d gone home and done a bit of Googling on Gabriel’s lawyer friend. There wasn’t much about Sam Winchester, unfortunately. His Facebook and Twitter had almost nothing besides a few year-old posts from college, and the only “official” information he could find about the lawyer came from the company’s website. Unfortunately, that consisted of an ID photo and a short blurb, stating that Sam had graduated from Stanford- _Damn, really? Kid was smart._ -and had begun work at Shurley and Associates immediately after graduation. Well, props to the kid. Stanford Law wasn’t easy, and getting a job fresh out of college was damn impressive.

Lucifer took a swig of his beer, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the screen, cocking his head to the side and frowning slightly as he studied the photograph in front of him. Sam hadn’t seemed to like him very much, but Gabriel swore up and down that the two of them had never been involved. That in itself was odd. Gabriel was never one to deny himself pretty things, and Sam was undoubtedly _very_ pretty. 

And, apparently, gay as well.

That was certainly a pleasant surprise. There weren’t exactly a lot of openly gay people in Nowhere, Kansas, much less gay lawyers. Lucifer took a moment to idly wonder if the kid had told his boss that during the hiring process. Given how vocal some people were about their opinions, he wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had kept that little tidbit a secret. 

Ah, well. It didn’t matter. Just because Sam was gay didn’t mean he’d automatically be interested in Lucifer. Still, a little wishful thinking never hurt anybody, did it? Sam was a good-looking guy, and he seemed like a frequent guest at Gabriel’s bakery, so if Lucifer wanted to see more of him, all he had to do was hang around with Gabriel, and he was bound to catch another glimpse or two of the lawyer. Lucifer signed, taking a pull from his beer. The moment Sam was out the door, Gabriel had turned to him with an evil gleam in his eyes, and said; 

“You like him, don’t you?”

“What? No.” Lucifer had grumbled, glaring at Gabriel over his muffin. Gabriel raised an eyebrow doubtfully, grinning like a maniac.

“Oh, no, Luci. No lying to me. I saw how you were looking at him. You want a piece of that.” Lucifer’s glare intensified, but Gabriel stubbornly refused to be intimidated. “Look, Luci, you don’t have to admit it. I’ll never tell. Just...don’t have sex in my bakery, okay? I think that’d break a few sanitation laws, and if I get shut down, there won’t be enough of either of you left for a DNA test.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “What, you gonna give me the “hurt my friend and I’ll kill you” speech, too? Or are you saving that for when you tell Sam if he hurts me, you’ll kill him? Come on, Gabriel. I barely know the kid.”

“And he barely knows you, which is why you two need to get to know each other. I can help you with that, for a price, of course.” Gabriel said, winking suggestively. Lucifer glared at him, but Gabriel merely smiled sunnily in return. “Come on, Luci, what’s the harm in talking to him? I’ll give you his number, and you can text him whenever your little heart desires. All I ask in return is that you give me all the details, and that you have at least one date in my lovely little shop here.”

Lucifer had reluctantly agreed, protesting that it was only to get Gabriel to quit nagging him, and that was how he now found himself staring at his phone, the name “Sam Winchester” staring back at him. Okay, fine, maybe Gabriel was right. He _did_ like Sam, though whether it was the fleeting curiosity that came with meeting someone new or a lasting interest remained to be seen. And, sure, texting Sam would probably help him determine that, but if Lucifer was being honest with himself, he knew it wouldn’t end well. Sam seemed like the sort of person destined for an exceedingly wholesome, normal life, and if there was anything Lucifer _wasn’t_ , it was wholesome. With a name like friggin’ Lucifer, how could he be? 

He tossed his phone to the side, finishing the last of his beer. Oh, well. He could text Sam tomorrow, see what the kid was up to, or he could always lie and tell Gabriel that it hadn’t worked out. Lying was always an attractive option, but Lucifer was feeling lucky. Maybe he’d give it a shot, just this once. He’d text Sam tomorrow, ask him if he wanted to get a drink sometime, and if it didn’t work out, well, then he got to hold it over Gabriel’s head for the rest of his life. It was a win-win, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to see more of Dean in the next chapter. I'm not great at tagging, so I usually update tags as I go, but I tried to at least get all the character tags down ahead of time. They'll be introduced gradually, if everything goes according to plan.
> 
> I like writing this fic, and I really hope you enjoy reading it! It's a lot of fun, for me, at least. Hopefully it's fun for you as well.


	3. The Best of Luck

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Sam groaned, squinting against the bright light filtering in from the window. 

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, up and at ‘em.” Dean said, prodding Sam sharply on the shoulder. Sam winced, reluctantly sitting up. Dean was standing in front of him, a protein bar and a bottle of water in hand. “You’re gonna be late.” Dean said, pointing at Sam’s clock. Sam glanced at it, then swore, almost falling out of bed in his haste to get up.

“Did you forget to set your alarm or something?” Dean asked, handing Sam the water bottle and protein bar. Sam nodded his thanks, throwing them into his bag.

“Yeah, I was talking to Charlie, and lost track of time.” He said, looking around frantically for his laptop. Dean pointed it out to him, and Sam grabbed it with a nod of thanks. “I’ve gotta get dressed now, so, uh,” He made a vague shooing motion, and Dean got the hint. “Thanks for getting me up!” Sam called at his retreating back. Dean waved a hand nonchalantly in recognition, disappearing around the corner. 

Sam groaned, running a hand through his hair. He threw on his usual attire; black pants, white button-up, black suit jacket, and a red striped tie that reminded him of flannel. Grabbing his bag, he bolted out the door, calling a hasty “See ya!” to Dean, who was busying himself in the kitchen with making breakfast.

Ash, one of the few friends Sam had made since starting at the firm, raised an eyebrow when Sam came in. “Running a little late today, are we, Sam?” Ash smirked, pulling his long hair back in a ponytail. Sam threw him an apologetic grin, sitting down at his desk and pulling out his laptop. 

“Forgot to set my alarm.” Sam replied, smiling ruefully. Ash nodded sagely, turning away now that his curiosity had been assuaged. Sam opened his laptop, frowning as he examined his schedule. Thankfully, he didn’t have any meetings today, but he did have to get Crowley that motion draft by the end of the day...sighing, Sam reached into his bag, pulling out the case summary. It was a bitch of a case, really, and he didn’t understand why he of all people was being assigned to it.

The man they were being assigned to defend was being accused of embezzling company funds, though the evidence was all suspiciously circumstantial. The prosecutor was a slimy son of a bitch named Zachariah, and Sam wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. Every word that man spoke reeked of deception, and his bulging eyes and reptilian grin did nothing to help with his reputation of an ambulance-chaser. Sam _hated_ him.

Thankfully, Crowley, Sam’s boss, seemed to share Sam’s hatred of Zachariah. Office gossip said that there was bad blood between the two, some old feud regarding Crowley’s current position at Shurley and Associates. It was well-known that the two lawyers despised each other, and Sam was dying to know why, but if he was being honest, there was something about Crowley that scared him. It was ridiculous, really, because Crowley was about two feet shorter and twenty years older than Sam, but the way he looked at you...Sam shuddered involuntarily, then scolded himself. _Pull yourself together, Sammy. Get your work done._

Three hours later, Sam’s fingers were stained with ink from flipping through the case files, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was a mess from constantly running his hands through it. He glanced at the clock, and decided it was high time to take a well-deserved lunch break. In his haste to leave that morning, he’d forgone both breakfast and forgotten to pack a lunch. The protein bar had been devoured hours ago, and his stomach growled angrily, prompting him to abandon his desk in search of lunch.

Ten minutes later, Sam found himself in Gabriel’s bakery, the aptly named Sinfully Sweet, a half-eaten muffin and a coffee on the table in front of him. Gabriel had been swamped with customers due to the lunch rush, and hadn’t been able to sneak away to talk to Sam, which Sam was quietly grateful for. He’d had a busy morning, and he needed some time to decompress.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Sam thankfully avoided choking on his coffee this time when he heard Lucifer’s voice from behind him. He spun around, silently cursing his terrible luck as he saw Lucifer standing behind him, a cup of coffee in hand. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Lucifer asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from Sam. 

“No, not at all.” Sam said, immediately regretting his decision as Lucifer sit into the seat, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“What brings you here?” Lucifer asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Sam decidedly did _not_ stare at Lucifer’s mouth, because, well, that man’s lips had his mind going to fairly inappropriate places. 

“Uh, it’s my lunch break.” Sam said, wrapping his hands around his own cup. “I was having a pretty busy day, so I figured I deserved a bit of a treat. What about you?”

Lucifer lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Pretty much the same. I had a lot of appointments, but I told the last guy he could wait half an hour for me to get lunch or else I’d deliberately screw up his tattoo.”

“Wow, really?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow, impressed in spite of himself. “You can do that?”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. “If you’re good enough at what you do, then you can do anything. Just ask Gabriel. He could open a sex shop above his bakery and people would still come here. All you need’s a bit of talent and a lot of cunning, and you’ll be fine. You should try it sometime.”

Sam blanched, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I like having a job, thank you. I also like things like financial security and the ability to live comfortably. I’m boring like that, I guess.”

Lucifer shrugged, grinning. “Nothing wrong with wanting to live comfortably, Sammy.”

Sam nodded, staring down at his coffee. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the urge to correct Lucifer for calling him Sammy. As a rule, Dean was the only one allowed to call him Sammy. Gabriel had been reluctantly allowed to use the nickname, but only because when Sam tried to stop him, Gabriel had come up with a seemingly endless string of terrible nicknames. Lucifer had probably picked it up from Gabriel, but strangely, Sam didn’t seem to mind Lucifer’s usage of the nickname.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you.” Lucifer said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I didn’t mean to disturb your little moment of sanity before you head back to Hell.”

Sam laughed, starting to gather his things. “Nah, you didn’t disturb me. It’s actually kinda refreshing to be around someone who doesn’t clam up when I tell them I’m a lawyer. A lot of people assume I’m either an uptight asshole or an ambulance chaser.”

Lucifer inclined his head. “What can I say? I’ve had a hell of a lot of people make assumptions about me. I know how it feels. I’m not making very many friends when I introduce myself as Satan, Lord of All Evil.”

Sam laughed again, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, I can imagine.” He stood for a moment, shifting awkwardly. Lucifer stared up at him, taking an expectant sip of coffee, waiting for Sam to say something. “I, uh, you didn’t disturb me.” Sam said, staring at the floor. “I like talking to you.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the bakery, disappearing into a throng of people outside.

Cheeks blazing, Sam strode back to the office, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. _It doesn’t mean anything._ He told himself sternly. _You just said that you like talking to him. That’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with that._

Brushing his crisis aside, he made his way back to his desk, his energy dwindling with every step he took. He loved being a lawyer, he really did, but damn if it wasn’t a draining, exhausting job. Law school and passing the Bar had been hard enough, but there was nothing quite like drafting motions and researching cases all day, on top of being the low man on the totem pole. Still, he couldn’t deny that the paycheck he received every month in the mail did a damn fine job of making up for that exhaustion. Fifty thousand dollars a year went a long way, and Sam was more than happy to be the low man on the totem pole for fifty grand.

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled his stack of work towards him, his headache already returning. _Fifty grand._ He repeated to himself. _Dean doesn’t make nearly that much. Take the fifty grand and an ibuprofen and get through it._ Squaring his shoulders resolutely, Sam opened his laptop, brow furrowing in concentration as he looked over Crowley’s case. It was solid, sure, but the questions for cross-examination needed some tweaking, and there was always the chance of Zachariah getting in an objection...Sam sighed, reaching into his desk to pull out the bottle of ibuprofen he kept there. He swallowed one with a grimace, resigning himself to a long day’s work.

Six hours later, Sam was sprawled on his couch, his head pounding. Dean peered over the back of the couch, wincing sympathetically.

“Long day?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer. Sam let out a wordless groan in response. His headache had gotten steadily worse throughout the day, and medicine was doing nothing to help. What he really wanted was to sleep for about eighteen hours, and then maybe a hot shower and a good meal. Unfortunately, what he _had_ to do was help Dean with the Impala, and then help with dinner. Apparently, even though Dean was a mechanic and some kind of car Jesus wizard, he still insisted that Sam’s extra pair of hands made all the difference in the world when helping Dean’s baby.

_Bzzz._

Sam frowned, digging in his pocket for his phone. No one from work had better be texting him. He’d sooner throw his phone in the toilet than do any more work tonight. 

_Hello, Sammy._

Sam frowned at the screen. The number displayed wasn’t familiar, and he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Not a lot of people had his number, and even less called him Sammy.

_Who is this? -SW_

_Lucifer. Gabriel’s brother. He gave me your number._

_Oh. Hey. What’s up? -SW_

_Nothing much. Just wanted to pop in, say hello. Give you my number so that Gabriel stops giving me shit. -L_

Sam snorted. Yeah, Gabriel definitely seemed like the kind of guy who’d bully you into texting someone. Lucifer didn’t seem like the type to be easily bullied, though. Sam dismissed it with a shrug. Things between brothers were different. Maybe Gabriel was secretly a hardass.

“Who’re you texting?” Dean asked, slightly suspiciously. 

“Lucifer.” Sam replied. “He’s one of Gabriel’s brothers. I met him the other day at the bakery.”

“Oh.” Dean said, his voice carefully casual. Sam sat up so that he could glare at his brother.

“‘Oh?’” Sam repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Dean, I’m allowed to have friends, even if they do happen to be named after the literal Devil.”

“Okay, Princess.” Dean said, not quite matching Sam’s sass but giving him a good run for his money. “I’ll just leave you to text your _friend_ in peace, and I’ll go work on Baby. You know, give you two some alone time.”

Sam tossed his shoe at Dean’s retreating back, smirking when it collided with a satisfying thump. He turned back to his phone, absentmindedly gnawing at his bottom lip while he tapped out a response.

_Gabriel, giving you shit? You seem like the type to beat up anyone who looks at you sideways. -SW_

_Only on the weekend. I was feeling generous. -L_

Sam snorted, his mind providing a vivid image of Lucifer breaking some poor sap’s jaw. Lucifer had been in pretty baggy clothes both times Sam had seen him, but there was a definite sense of power and strength in the blonde man.

Another buzz from his phone pulled him out of his thoughts. 

_If you’re not too busy Friday night, Gabriel promised me free food if I texted you. -L_

Sam rolled his eyes. Yeah, that sounded like Gabriel. His food was amazing, and Gabriel wasn’t above using his cooking skills as bargaining chips.

_Depends. What’s in it for me? -SW_

_Gabriel’s cooking and the privilege of basking in my glorious presence. -L_

Sam grinned, his face flushing slightly as he replied. It wasn’t a date, he told himself. Lucifer’s just trying to shove it in Gabriel’s face that he texted me, that’s all. Nothing to get excited about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there's a lot more characters in this fic than I'm used to writing, and I'm not sure yet on how much time they'll get. If they disappear for three chapters and then reappear suddenly, forgive me. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks to everyone who reads/bookmarks/leaves comments/kudos. You're all amazing and I love you.


	4. Done For

Friday dawned, and Sam was a mess. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t a date, that there was nothing to be nervous about, yet here he was, staring at his reflection in the mirror and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d already changed three times, and was now staring critically at his fourth outfit of the night. Jeans and a t-shirt were too casual, suit pants and a button-up were too professional, and jeans and a button-up made him look like a high-schooler on picture day. He’d finally settled on jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel, and was now trying to determine if he looked too much like a lumberjack or not.

“Hey, princess, how’s your makeup coming?” Dean called, banging on Sam’s door. Sam jumped, then scowled at the door.

“Shut up, Dean.”

“No, really.” Dean said. “What’s taking you so long in there? If it’s not a date, what are you worried about? Do you _like_ him or something?” Sam didn’t miss the emphasis on “like”, and his scowl deepened.

“You know what, Dean, eat a dick.” Sam replied, yanking open the door and storming past his brother, who was leaning against the wall.

“Ooh, real mature, Sammy.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. He straightened, following Sam down the hall and to the door. “So, do I need to remind you of the first-date rules, or is it “not a date” and I don’t have to?” He asked, making air quotes with his fingers. Sam pulled a bitchface, but he was too nervous to do it properly. Dean looked at him innocently, shrugging as though he were confused. “I mean, I don’t _mind_ reading you the rules, Sammy, but if you don’t think they’re necessary-”

“Oh, shut up.” Sam grumbled, cutting him off. “I know the rules. No chick flick moments and a bunch of other crap about love and commitment. And no, they’re not necessary, because it’s not a date.”

“Sure, Sammy.” Dean said, shrugging innocently. “And I’m sure that you’re freaking about how you’re dressed just because you want to make a good impression on your _friend_.” He gave Sam a shit-eating grin, then tossed him the keys. “Have fun, Sammy. Use a condom.”

Sam seriously considered throwing one of his shoes at his brother’s retreating back, but decided against it. Dean giving him the Impala, even for just a trip down to the bar, was a very rare occurrence, and he intended to make the most of it. Namely, by playing loud pop music and quietly laughing about how Dean would kill him if he knew Baby’s precious stereo was being used to blast Katy Perry.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was perched atop a barstool, his fingers beating a nervous staccato beat on the bartop. The bartender gave him a dirty look, but softened when Sam responded with an apologetic grin and his best puppy-dog eyes. Fuck, he hadn’t been this nervous about a date in-no, no, it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a date. It was just Lucifer trying to get free food from Gabriel, which was completely understandable. There was absolutely nothing remotely date-like about this encounter.

“Hello, Sammy.”

Sam nearly fell off his barstool in his eagerness to spin around, which earned him a raised eyebrow and a quiet chuckle from Lucifer. The blonde man slid onto the stool next to Sam, and fuck if he didn’t look good. Sam swallowed hard, trying vainly not to stare as Lucifer leaned forward, flagging down the bartender to order a drink.

“So, uh, how was your day?” Sam asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Lucifer shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

“Can’t complain. My fingers are purple, though.” He said, holding out his hands for Sam to inspect. Lucifer’s fingertips were indeed stained a deep purple, and Sam had to firmly clamp a hand over the sudden impulse to lower his mouth to Lucifer’s hand and see how he tasted. 

“How’d that happen?” Sam asked, taking an overly large gulp of beer to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“Color tattoo.” Lucifer replied. “I’ve been finishing one of my client’s tattoos for a while now. It started out as a plain black fire design, but she decided that she wanted color, and we’ve spent the last couple months adding color.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Sam said, leaning forward. “How often do tattoos take to heal? Do you have to wait for them to heal before you add color?”

Lucifer grinned, seeming to enjoy Sam’s eagerness. “Well, it depends. Some smaller tattoos, like a rose, can be done in one session. Depending on your pain tolerance and how long you’re willing to sit still, larger tattoos can be done and shaded in one long session, or multiple sessions. In this case, the client decided to add color after her tattoo was done, so we’re doing multiple sessions and giving it time to heal in between.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Sam asked. “I mean, you probably do, since you’re a tattoo artist, but, uh, yeah.” He trailed off, his face burning. 

Lucifer laughed, patting Sam’s shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, kid. I’m not gonna bite you. Yes, I have tattoos. Three, actually. A pair of angel’s wings on my back, the sigil of Lucifer on my left forearm, and a cross with a snake twisted around it on my right forearm.”

“Wow.” Sam let out a low whistle. “Religious imagery, much?”

Lucifer snorted. “Hey, I grew up in a devout household that named all their kids after angels. They named me after _Lucifer_. I might as well live up to my namesake, right?”

“I still can’t believe they actually named you Lucifer.” Sam said, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s basically guaranteeing that you’ll be a rebellious child. What did they think was gonna happen?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Lucifer said, shrugging. “I think it’s because they were trying to in order by age. My older brother is Michael, then me, then Raphael and Gabriel. Still doesn’t explain it, though.”

“Wait, wait, Gabriel’s one of the oldest brothers?” Sam said, shocked. “How? He’s a nut! I’m surprised he never killed one of his younger brothers.”

“Came close a few times.” Lucifer said casually. “He kept trying to convince Castiel that he was actually an angel. Nearly got the poor kid to jump off the room once or twice. Luckily, Castiel’s a fairly straight-set, serious guy, and he never fell for Gabriel’s tricks.”

“How is he not in jail?” Sam said incredulously. Lucifer shrugged, draining his drink.

“Oh, Gabriel never does anything _really_ dangerous with his pranks. Usually, he just ruins a family gathering or two, and that’s completely understandable. Devout Catholics and sexually deviant individuals don’t usually mix. At least with me, they can blame it on their poor name choices. With Gabriel, there were a lot more “being gay is a choice” lectures and a lot more quoting of literature at him.”

Sam winced sympathetically. His dad hadn’t taken Sam coming out very well, but at least he hadn’t been able to use religion as a way of shaming him. The Winchesters weren’t a very religious bunch, so John hadn’t been able to use the Bible as justification for disliking Sam’s “life choices.”

_Wait, “at least with me”?_

_Did Lucifer just admit to not being straight?_

“Sammy? You still with me?”

Sam started, snapping back to reality. “Yeah, sorry.” He said apologetically. “Just reminded me of my dad, that’s all.”

Lucifer nodded, staring at Sam critically. “You want to talk about it?” He asked, concern evident in his voice. Sam shook his head, draining his beer and signaling the bartender for another one.

“Nah, it’s fine. He’s a dick, is all.”

“Alright.” Lucifer said, lifting his newly refilled glass. “A toast, then. To asshole parents and mutual daddy issues.” Sam snorted with laughter, clinking his glass against Lucifer’s and taking a long drink. Lucifer drained his own glass, and leaned forward, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

Sam took advantage of Lucifer’s inattention to admire the other man’s body. Lucifer was in worn jeans, a blue shirt, and a green canvas jacket, and on anybody else it would’ve looked baggy and ridiculous, but somehow, Lucifer made it work. Sam let his gaze trail over Lucifer’s body, the pleasant buzz of alcohol under his skin making him warm enough to shed his flannel. Lucifer noticed the movement and turned to face Sam, a crooked grin twisting his lips.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Lucifer asked, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Uh, no, no.” Sam said, shaking his head. “What about you?”

Lucifer lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’ve got a few clients coming in. Weekends are usually the busiest time of the week for me.” His eyes glinted with a mischievous light. “You should come in, see the shop.”

“Oh, no, I’m not-” Sam started to protest, but Lucifer waved it aside. 

“Come on, Sammy. What harm will it do? You’re not gonna get fired for going to a tattoo parlor. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up wanting to get one yourself.”

Sam flushed, ducking his head. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” He mumbled, smiling shyly up at Lucifer. Lucifer’s grin widened, and he clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

“That’s the spirit, Sammy.” Lucifer said encouragingly. “And if you ever did want to get a tattoo, I would be honored to give you one.”

Sam laughed, trying to ignore the way the caveman side of his brain perked up at the thought of Lucifer’s hands on his skin. “My brother and I were thinking of getting matching tattoos, actually.” He said, trying to sound as casual as possible, hoping Lucifer wouldn’t notice the undertone of _oh god please touch me_ in his voice.

“Really? What of?” Lucifer asked, his gaze searching as he stared at Sam. Something in his gaze made Sam’s throat go dry, and he struggled to swallow.

“Nothing in particular. The idea didn’t get too far into the planning phase. Dean would probably get a tattoo of Baby, and I don’t really like anything enough to get it permanently on my body.”

“Baby?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s his car.” Sam explained. “Our dad gave it to him-well, Dean kind of stole it, a little bit. But he loves it, takes great care of it. It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala, and he calls it Baby. He’s a mechanic, so he gets a little weird about cars. He let me take it tonight, actually.”

“Really? Can I see it?” Lucifer asked, his eyes lighting up eagerly. “If that’s okay, that is. I’m more of a motorcycle man, myself. Cars are too slow and confining for my taste, but I always appreciate a classic car.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam said, flagging down the bartender and pulling out his wallet. Lucifer put a hand on his wrist, stopping him. Sam froze, his breath catching in his throat, his thoughts devolving into a litany of _he’s touching me he’s touching me oh god he’s touching me_. Lucifer pulled out his wallet and slapped a few bills onto the counter, ignoring Sam’s protests.

“I don’t mind paying for you.” Lucifer said sternly. “It’s only a few beers, Sam. My treat. Consider it payment for letting me see your brother’s car.”

Sam sighed, relenting. He got up and led the way to the Impala, Lucifer following closely behind him. It occured to Sam that he probably should’ve parked closer, because it was a lot darker than he expected. The only source of light was a streetlight a few feet away, casting the Impala in shadow, with just enough light to make out the stunned expression on Lucifer’s face as he saw the Impala.

“Damn.” Lucifer breathed, letting out a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding.”

Sam let out a quiet laugh, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s a nice car. Don’t leave fingerprints on it, though, or else Dean will make me clean her as punishment.”

“I won’t.” Lucifer said quietly, seemingly entranced. “Can I-” He stopped, glancing guiltily over his shoulder at Sam. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make this all about the car.”

“No worries.” Sam said, smiling. “Did you want me to drive you home in it?” 

It was a risky move, and Sam knew it. He had no idea how Lucifer had gotten to the bar, much less where he actually lived. Driving Lucifer home blurred the lines between “date” and “drinks with a friend”, and the lines were pretty damn blurred already. Plus, Sam didn’t quite trust himself to keep his composure and keep his eyes on the road if he had Lucifer sitting next to him in the Impala. His imagination was already running wild with all the things he wanted Lucifer to do to him in the backseat, and damn Dean to hell because Sam so wanted to suck the blonde man off in the Impala, wanted to ride him hard enough to make the leather creak, wanted their breath to fog up the windows like they were in the damn Titanic. 

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great.” Lucifer said, snapping Sam out of his reverie. “I hitched a ride here with Gabriel, and I can’t very well refuse a ride in a car as nice as this one.”

_Oh god oh god oh god oh I fucked up I fucked up._

Sam opened the passenger door and sat down in the driver’s seat in a daze, staring at the steering wheel in a fog of panic. _Oh, god, I make terrible life choices._ He thought to himself, starting the car and backing out of the bar’s parking lot.

“So, which way?” He asked, not daring to look over at Lucifer.

“Just down the road from Gabriel’s bakery.” Lucifer replied, and oh god, was his voice rougher, or was that Sam’s imagination? Fuck, he was going to kill them both, and then Dean was going to kill him again for messing up the Impala. 

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Sam’s knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel as he drove. Fuck, he hadn’t been this tense while driving since he took the damn driving test to get his license when he was sixteen. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t even a date. _Pull yourself together, Sam._ He scolded himself. _You’re being stupid. Lucifer’s a nice guy; just because he’s not straight doesn’t mean he’s interested in you._

“You okay? You seem pretty tense.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam answered, too quickly. He winced at how loud his voice was in the confines of the Impala, silently cursing himself. He chanced a glance over at Lucifer, and immediately regretted it. The other man was staring at Sam with dark eyes, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip as he stared at Sam. _Fuck_.

“Do I make you nervous, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, and it wasn’t Sam’s imagination this time; Lucifer’s voice was definitely lower and rougher. _Double fuck_. Was Lucifer... _teasing_ him? Sam glanced over at Lucifer incredulously, and Lucifer licked his lips, deliberately slow. Oh, yeah, Lucifer was _definitely_ teasing him.

_Oh, to hell with it._

“Yeah, you make me nervous.” Sam croaked, his throat dry.

“And why is that, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, his words low and languid.

“Because...you’re good-looking.” Sam answered awkwardly, his cheeks hot. Lucifer made a small noise of approval, dragging his tongue across his teeth in a slow movement. Sam bit his lip, hard, to keep from letting out an embarrassingly desperate noise. Lucifer hadn’t even done anything and Sam was already a flustered mess. Fuck, he was so done for.

“You can stop here.” Lucifer said, pointing out the window at a nondescript apartment building. Sam braked, pulling the Impala to a stop in front of the building. He turned to face Lucifer, but the blonde man was already exiting the car. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. Had he screwed up? 

Lucifer knocked on his window, and Sam jumped, quickly rolling it down to cover his surprise. “Thanks for the ride.” Lucifer said, with an absolutely filthy wink. “I’d love to for you give me another one sometime.” With that, he turned on his heel, disappearing into the building, leaving Sam open-mouthed and dumbfounded in the Impala.

Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, sagging back against his seat. He was _so_ done for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing last week's update! I was visiting relatives and didn't have time to write. I'm back though, with a long chapter to make up for it! Not gonna lie, I got back last night and wrote basically this entire thing today, so if there's any spelling/grammar mistakes, please let me know! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know! I really hope you enjoyed it, and I'm always happy with feedback!


	5. Details

_Do you have details? -G_

_No._ Lucifer wrote back, trying to convey his irritation through how hard his tapped his screen. _I don’t have any details. You do, however, owe me food. Do you have any details on that?_

_Come on, bro, don’t be that way! You have to have done more than just texted Samsquatch. How was it? Did you use a condom? -G_

Lucifer rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Damn, Gabriel was annoying sometimes. Were all brothers like this, or was it just the universe punishing him? Probably a bit of both. 

_We got drinks, Gabriel. That’s all. He drove me home in the nicest car I’ve ever been in. -L_

_Ooh, fancy. You know, Sam’s never let me touch Dean’s car. You must be special. -G_

_You’d probably break the car, Gabriel. You’re the clumsiest person I know. Apparently, Sam only had the car because his brother is just as annoying as you, and insists that we should date. -L_

_That’s because you two should date, you dick. Come on. You really mean to tell me you don’t like him? -G_

_He seems like a nice guy. I invited him to stop by the shop this weekend, so we’ll have to wait and see if he takes me up on that offer. That’d be a great time for you to provide me with that free food you promised. I may have bribed Sam with your cooking to convince him to get a drink with me. -L_

_You didn’t answer my question, bro. Don’t hold out on me like that! You know I’ll find out eventually. You’ll make it easier on yourself if you just tell me. -G_

_Have a good night, Gabriel. Be ready to bring muffins and whatever Sam likes to the shop this weekend. -L_

Lucifer tossed his phone to the side, smirking as it buzzed angrily. Gabriel was no doubt texting him in a fuss, irritated that his baking skills were being commissioned without Lucifer answering his questions. Well, Gabriel would have to get used to that. Lucifer wasn’t one to express his emotions, especially because then Gabriel would get to brag that he’d been right, and Lucifer wasn’t about to let that happen. 

Okay, maybe Gabriel was annoyingly perceptive, and maybe Sam was exactly Lucifer’s type, and looked cute as hell when he was flustered to boot, but that didn’t mean Lucifer would ever give Gabriel the satisfaction of knowing he’d been right. Gabriel adored playing matchmaker with his brothers, but Lucifer would be damned if any of Gabriel’s meddling actually yielded something good. Sam was a nice guy, that was all.

Lucifer was nearly done with a complex pattern of zentangles, his tongue between his teeth, when his phone buzzed.

Being a professional, he ignored it.

His client, not being a professional, and being more than a bit of an ass, did not. 

“Your phone is buzzing.” The man-what was his name? Chris, Carl, something with a C-said snidely. Lucifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes, I heard it. But I’m in the middle of something right now, and I’d prefer to finish this before checking it out.” Lucifer said, more than a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. The man quieted down, suitably chastised by Lucifer’s tone, and Lucifer took a moment to be glad that he was intimidating enough to make people shut up whenever he wanted them to before returning to his work.

Thirty minutes later, the hellish zentangles were finally done. Lucifer pressed his palms to his eyes, blinking several times to clear the black rectangles dancing in his vision. The man-Carter, that was his name-examined Lucifer’s work, clearly impressed. 

“Hey, that looks great, thanks!” He said enthusiastically, his fingers reaching dangerously close to the fresh ink. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and his caught Carter’s wrist in an iron grip. Carter froze, shocked, staring at Lucifer with something akin to fear in his eyes.

“Please, for my sanity, do not touch the tattoo. Give it time to heal.” Lucifer said, sounding more weary than threatening. He’d intended to be more intimidating, but, really, zentangles gave him a headache, and, while they looked cool, were a lot more trouble than they were worth. 

“Go easy on him, tiger.” Ruby said from where she was lounging, examining her manicured nails.

“Thank you for your input.” Lucifer said, giving her a false smile. He turned back to Carter, who was waiting patiently for further instruction, or, more likely, was trying to avoid being scolded again.

“I’m going to wipe it down with some antibacterial soap and then wrap it. Keep the bandage on for around 12-24 hours. When you take it off, you’re going to start to see some blood and other oozey gunk. That’s normal; don’t freak out. Wipe it off with warm water and your fingers, no towels. You’ll be sore and red for a few days, that’s also normal, please don’t freak out. Then, you’ll be extremely itchy. Please, for the love of everything, don’t scratch or peel your tattoo. You can put some lotion on it, but don’t peel it. Got it?” Lucifer rattled off, absentmindedly cleaning up his workstation as he did so.

Carter nodded earnestly, smiling proudly at his new tattoo. Lucifer let him have his moment, then ushered him out of the shop, checking his phone.

_Hey, would today around 1 be a good time to come around? -SW_

Lucifer grinned widely, then quickly wiped the expression off his face before Ruby could see it. He tapped out a reply, being sure to text Gabriel to bring the food as he did so.

_Yeah, that’d be great. Sorry I didn’t reply sooner, I had a client. I told Gabriel to bring food, so don’t worry about lunch or anything. Wear casual clothes, not one of your fancy suits. I’d hate to stain one. -L_

Lucifer set down his phone, absentmindedly rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin. He had appointments scheduled from 2 o’clock onward, but hopefully an hour would be long enough to talk to Sam. There were a lot of benefits to creative work, including occasional long stretches of free time, but one of the downsides was that weekends were his busiest time, instead of being relaxing. 

Gabriel arrived, juggling several boxes of baked goods and clearly irritated. Lucifer jumped up to help him, quickly taking the food before Gabriel could use it as leverage to get information out of him. Turns out, Lucifer made the right choice, because the moment he caught his breath, Gabriel was speaking in such a rush that it was difficult to understand him.

“Okay, this is it, big bro. You’ve gotta give me _something_! Sam’s a good kid, and he cares about people a lot. Are you interested in him or not? Twenty bucks says he likes you, especially if he’s making the effort to come around on the weekend. He’s a lawyer, he never gets free time, and if he’s spending it with you, then that means you’re damn special. I have a hard enough time convincing him to take ten minutes of his lunch to talk to me, and suddenly he’s meeting you for drinks and coming by the shop? Come on, Luci, give me _something_!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You done?” He asked, taking a bite of a muffin. Gabriel glared daggers at him, and Lucifer responded with his most smug, self-satisfied smirk that he’d perfected over years of pissing off his siblings.

“Oh, I hate you sometimes.” Gabriel grumbled, stealing a cookie from one of the boxes. “You’re a dick, you know that? A bag of dicks. A great big bag of dicks. That’s what you are, Luci.”

“Duly noted.” Lucifer replied around a mouthful of muffin. “And no, I’m not going to give you any details. If you’d like, you can stick around and wait for Sammy to arrive, but I wasn’t planning on doing much except trying to convince him to get a tattoo.”

Gabriel laughed. “Tell you what, Luci. Let’s make a bet. If you can convince Samsquatch to get a tattoo, I’ll stop bugging you about him. For a week”

“And if I can’t?” Lucifer asked, rubbing his chin. It was a tempting bet, but Sam had seemed pretty spooked when Lucifer had brought up tattoos the other night.

Gabriel grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “If you can’t, you have to answer all of my questions honestly, for a week.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Damn, that wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. But bets with Gabriel were always fun, and he’d won the last one easily, and it was always nice to assert his dominance and superiority over his little brother.

“Alright.” Lucifer said, his lips dragging back over his teeth in a predatory grin. “Deal.” They shook, and Lucifer kept his face neutral, not betraying his sneaking suspicion that he’d just made a horrible decision.

Luckily for Lucifer, the bell on the door chimed, and he and Gabriel both looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. It was clear from his body language that he felt uncomfortable in the shop, and from the way his eyes were scanning around the shop, it seemed like he was going to lose his nerve and bolt at any second.

“Heya, Samsquatch!” Gabriel called, waving sunnily at Sam. Sam’s face broke out into a relieved grin, and he hurried over.

“Hey, Gabriel. What’re you doing here?” He asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Oh, I was just dropping off some food, but I won’t stick around. I’d hate to interrupt you two.” Gabriel said, winking at Lucifer. Lucifer gave him a glare cold enough that Sam swore it dropped the temperature of the shop, but Gabriel didn’t seem to mind. He snorted with laughter, reaching up to clap a hand on Sam’s arm. “Have fun, kids.”

“Ass.” Lucifer grumbled as Gabriel strolled out of the shop, whistling merrily. “How he always manages to be in a good mood, I’ll never know.”

Sam nodded in assent, worrying his bottom lip nervously. God, why had he agreed to do this? He was going to die, and Dean would sure as hell be laughing at his funeral. He could see the headline now: “Promising young lawyer dies because of sexual tension. In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to his brother Dean, who will probably use the money for liquor and porn.”

“Sammy? You with me?” Lucifer asked, snapping his fingers in front of Sam’s face. Sam blinked, nodding. 

“Yeah, sorry. I spaced out.”

“You seem to do that a lot.” Lucifer observed. “Am I distracting you again?” He smirked, his eyes dark as he looked up at Sam. Sam coughed, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks.

“Uh-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Lucifer said, waving a hand. “I won’t press you for details. Now, you said you were thinking about getting a tattoo? Wanna look around and see some stuff? There’s not really much else to do here.”

Sam shrugged, thankful that Lucifer was having mercy on him, at least for a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure. I don’t think I’d get one today, but I guess there’s no harm in looking, right?”

“Of course not!” Lucifer replied briskly, plopping down in his worn chair and rolling it over to his computer. Sam followed obligingly, sitting down in the chair next to Lucifer’s.   
“Now, what sort of design were you thinking of? You said you and your brother were thinking of matching tattoos, so would it be a quote, a symbol, something like that? Since you’ve never gotten a tattoo, you’d probably be better off getting something smaller to start, just so that you don’t get overwhelmed by the sensation.”

“Uh, I’m not sure?” Sam said, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “Are tattoos really painful? I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but I’ve also never had a needle repeatedly stabbed into my skin.”

Lucifer shrugged. “It depends where you get it. Feet will hurt a lot, elbows, places without a lot of fat to protect them. Inner thighs, the inside of your arm, your chest if you’re a girl, are more sensitive places and will hurt more. I don’t think tattoos are that bad, but I’ve gotten multiple tattoos, so I might not be the best person to ask.”

“Oh.” Sam said. He didn’t say what he was really thinking, which was that if Lucifer was touching him, everywhere on his body was going to be sensitive. Sam had never taken particular notice of people’s hands before, but when he was around Lucifer, he couldn’t stop staring at the man’s hands. Fuck, when had he gotten so touch-starved and needy? All he wanted was for Lucifer to touch him, didn’t matter where, and if a tattoo was the way to get Lucifer’s hands on him for hours at a time, then fuck, Sam was willing.

A small part of him piped up that there were definitely better ways to get Lucifer to touch him, ways that didn’t involve permanently coloring a part of his skin, but Sam told that part to fuck off. He’d always wanted a tattoo, hadn’t he? And now here was the golden opportunity to not only get a tattoo, but to have Lucifer’s hands on him for hours at a time, and Sam fully intend to take advantage of that opportunity.

“So, what do you think?” Lucifer asked, his eyes bright with something unidentifiable as he looked at Sam. “Would you ever want to get a tattoo? I’d be honored to give it to you, of course.” He smirked, winking at Sam. Sam flushed, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah,” He said, his throat dry. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

“Excellent.” Lucifer purred. Damn, this was easier than he thought. Lucifer was far too busy enjoying teasing Sam and lording over his winning yet another bet to notice how Sam was practically vibrating with need. “If you’d like, you could come over to my apartment tonight and we could look for some designs for you. I’m busy the rest of the day, but if you stop over at, say, 7, we should have plenty of time to ourselves.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great.” Sam said, seemingly too stunned to process what Lucifer had said. He stood, still shell-shocked, and started to hold out a hand for Lucifer to shake. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, but obligingly shook Sam’s hand. Sam seemed to snap out of his trance, looked down at his hand, and flushed. “Uh, I’ll go.” He said, practically sprinting out of the shop. Lucifer watched him go, a dark smile curling the edge of his lip.

“You’re going to kill him, you know.” Ruby commented from her desk. 

“Oh, I know.” Lucifer replied. “But I’m having far too much fun to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's far more pining than I intended, though it's definitely a more sexual sort of pining than I'm used to. Poor Sam. Will I ever stop torturing him like this? Probably not. I like the idea of Gabriel playing matchmaker for all his siblings. It seems like something he'd do.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. No Homo (a blatant lie)

“Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” Dean called from his position on the couch. Sam stood in the doorway, his head still spinning from his experience in Lucifer’s shop.

“I’m gonna go to Lucifer’s house for dinner and maybe to think about getting a tattoo.”

“Uh, okay?” Dean said, laughing. “Good to know. Is there any particular reason that you have to go to his house to do that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam answered honestly, collapsing in a chair. He cradled his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. “I couldn’t say no, though, could I? He was inviting me over for dinner, and I didn’t want to be rude, and-”

“And you really want to ride his dick. Yeah, I get it.” Dean said, nodding slowly. “Perfectly understandable, Sammy.”

Sam glared daggers at his brother, but Dean just gave him a shit-eating grin and made a “so what?” gesture with his hands.

“You know, it’s probably a good thing that you’re going to be out. I’ve got someone coming over.” Dean said casually, winking at Sam. Sam made a face, disgusted.

“Come on, Dean. I don’t need to know that.”

“Nah, you don’t, but I’m your big brother. It’s my job to torture you.” Dean said. Sam groaned, and Dean relented, taking pity on him. “Okay, fine. It’s not like that. He’s one of Gabriel’s brothers, actually. Castiel. You know him, right?”

Sam frowned. He’d only met Castiel a handful of times, but the man had left quite the impression. He was oddly professional at all times, seemed to have a serious lack of interpersonal skills, knew little to nothing about pop culture, and was always wearing a trench coat and a suit, even if it was stiflingly hot outside. 

“Yeah, I’ve met him a few times. Why is he coming over?”

Dean shrugged. “I invited him. We’re friends. We’ve talked a lot over the past few months, and I figured we should hang out. He doesn’t seem like the type to go out drinking, so I figured we’d stay in, order a pizza, watch Star Trek, you know.”

Sam grinned, surveying his brother closely. “So it’s a date.”

“No!” Dean protested immediately. “It is not a date. We’re hanging out, that’s all. As friends.”

“Riiight.” Sam said, shaking his head. “Sure. You’re hanging out, as friends. Netflix and Chill. No homo.” Dean scowled, throwing a pillow at Sam. Sam swatted it away easily, his grin widening. “It’s cool, Dean, I understand. You’re not out of the closet yet, and it’s difficult for you to admit that your feelings for Castiel are more than just friendship. Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll love and accept you, no matter what, even if you want Castiel’s dick.”

“Oh, fuck off, Sammy.” Dean grumbled, but his words had no heat to them. “You’ll probably see him, unless you’re planning on spending the night at Lucifers?” He trailed off, leaving the question to hang between them. Sam flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No, I’m not gonna spend the night.” Sam said, trying to hide his nerves. Fuck, everything was such a whirlwind around Lucifer. Sam was pretty sure that if Lucifer had asked him to bend over his desk, Sam would’ve done it in a heartbeat. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. Lucifer made him nervous, made Sam’s head spin, turned him into an incoherent, babbling mess. He _hated_ feeling like this.

Dean had turned back to the TV, evidently having had his fill of torturing Sam. Sam escaped eagerly to his room, flopping down on his bed with a loud sigh. He was so utterly, completely fucked. Why on earth had he agreed to go to Lucifer’s house? Why was he willing to get needles repeatedly stabbed into his skin just for the sake of having Lucifer’s hands on him? 

Unbidden, his brain took that fantasy and ran with it, plunging Sam into a vivid daydream in which he was lying flat on a table- _A table? Really? What was this, a massage parlor?_ -, his shirt draped over a chair next to him. Lucifer’s hands were slightly cool on his back, though that could’ve been because Sam felt like he was burning. Every inch of his skin was on fire, and Lucifer’s hands weren’t helping in the slightest. Sam had initially been relieved when Lucifer’s hands were cold to the touch, hoping that it’d calm him down a bit, but now he found himself craving Lucifer’s cool touch more than ever.

To make matters worse, Lucifer had an odd habit of tracing patterns on Sam’s back while he was working. It had been reassuring at first. Maybe it was Lucifer’s way of calming him down? But then Lucifer kept doing it, long after Sam would’ve needed reassurance or an escape from the pain. It wasn’t even that painful, though Sam suspected that Lucifer could’ve been repeatedly stabbing him with a knife and Sam wouldn’t have noticed. He was too caught up in the feeling of having Lucifer touching him, sitting so close to him that it was almost intoxicating. 

“You doing okay? You’re awfully quiet.” Lucifer said absentmindedly, cocking his head to the side as he smoothed a thumb over Sam’s back.

“Yup.” Sam said, wincing as his voice broke and cracked. Fuck, why did he have to constantly make a fool of himself around Lucifer? 

“You seem tense.” Lucifer commented, his words taking on a slight uptick that was unmistakable. Oh, yeah, Lucifer was teasing him. Again. Great.

“Fuck you.” Sam grumbled, the words slightly muffled by his arm, which he had pressed against his mouth to keep from whining from Lucifer’s touches.

There was a slight pause, then Lucifer shrugged. “Okay.”

Sam’s brain short-circuited momentarily, then what Lucifer said registered with him, and he nearly choked. “What?” He squawked, twisting his head to stare incredulously at Lucifer.

“I said okay.” Lucifer said, as nonchalantly as though they were discussing the weather. “I’d be more than willing to fuck you, Sam.” 

Sam gaped, at a complete loss for words. Lucifer waited, staring at Sam expectantly, rolling his eyes when Sam continued to gape at him like a fish out of water. 

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Lucifer asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. “I would absolutely be willing to fuck you, Sam. Perhaps not right this very second, as you are currently on a table, and I don’t think that’d be a very comfortable position for either of us. But, if you were willing to get cleaned up and move to my bed, I would be happy to fuck you. Would that be something you’d be interested in?”

Sam shook himself, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I’d, uh, I’d like that.” He croaked, his throat dry. 

Lucifer smirked, his eyes dark. “Good.” He purred. “Now, be a good boy and be still while I cover up your tattoo. There’s no need to put your shirt back on once I’m done. I don’t think you’ll be needing it.”

Sam jerked, his mind snapping back to reality. His cheeks were burning, and his cock was hard, straining against his jeans. Fuckin’ great. Way to top off the day by fantasizing about the person you’re going to have dinner with later. _Dumbass_.

He groaned, more out of frustration than anything else as his cock pulsed insistently in his jeans. Fucking _fantastic_. He eyed the clock, chewing his bottom lip nervously. He still had a little while before he had to be at Lucifer’s apartment, and maybe a quick jerk would help calm his nerves. It’d certainly help him not be constantly half-hard whenever he was around Lucifer. 

Ignoring the part of his brain that told him that he was just rationalizing doing something stupid, Sam dropped his hand to his crotch and squeezed, his breath hitching at the sensation. It wasn’t easy to get friction through his jeans, and it mostly just rubbed the skin of his hand raw, making him hiss. 

He shoved a hand under his jeans and into his boxers, not caring that his belt dug into the skin of his wrist. _Fuck_ , that felt good. He stroked himself inelegantly, biting his lower lip hard. It didn’t matter that he was still fully clothed, didn’t matter that he was barely able to move his hand halfway up his length. It was enough. He’d been pent-up and frustrated all week, and the mix of his fantasy about Lucifer and being around the damn guy all the time was more than enough to have him leaking. Fuck, he was so close already, how did that happen? He let his head loll back, his lips parted, panting and thrusting into his hand in shallow movements. He was so close, just a little longer...

The universe, naturally, had other ideas.

Sam swore viciously, grabbing his ringing phone and staring at it for a moment, briefly considering the notion of smashing the damn thing against a wall. He took a deep, calming breath, then answered.

“Hello?”

“Sam, it’s me.”

Sam straightened, fear spreading through him like ice. “Dad?” He asked, his voice uncertain. 

“Has it really been so long that you don’t remember what I sound like?” John asked, his voice rough and low. “Maybe you should call more, Sam. I haven’t heard from you since you started school.”

“You mean, you haven’t heard from me since you kicked me out.” Sam snapped, standing and crossing over to the door, closing it quietly. Dean didn’t need to know that John was calling. 

“Oh, come on, Sammy, don’t be like that.” 

“Don’t call me Sammy. And I _will_ be like that, because I’m an adult with a job and I can make my own goddamn choices.” Sam snarled, his hand clenched into a fist by his side. He was shaking with barely suppressed anger. He’d forgotten just how much he disliked his father. Why _now_ , of all times, would John be calling him? He’d made his feelings for Sam pretty clear when he kicked him out upon hearing he’d gotten in Stanford. Most parents would’ve been ecstatic, but not John Winchester. He’d felt that Sam was betraying the Winchester name by not wanting to be a part of the family business, Winchester Automotive. 

Dean, for his part, had become a mechanic, but to John’s shock and Sam’s delight, had moved out to work with Bobby Singer, a longtime friend of John’s and more of a parent to Sam and Dean than John had ever been. John had been livid that both of his children were disappointments, and hadn’t spoken to either of them in years.

“What, a man can’t call his son and see how he’s doing?” John laughed, but stopped quickly when he realized Sam wasn’t joining in. “I wanted to see how you were.” John said soberly. “How’s the job? How’s Dean? Have you met anyone special?”

“The job is fine. Dean is fine. And-” Sam stopped, his mind racing. Now, he hadn’t _really_ met anyone special, not officially. All he had was an abundance of innuendos and a dinner date, but John didn’t need to know that. 

“Yes, I have met someone.” Sam continued, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “His name’s Lucifer, and I’m just on my way to go to his house for what is bound to be a night of debauchery and sin.” John made an unidentifiable sort of gurgling noise, and Sam hung up on him, and surge of vindictive pleasure coursing through him. Damn, that felt good. 

Of course, now he’d have to go to Lucifer’s apartment and try to look him in the face after having a fantasy about him and telling his dad that Lucifer was going to fuck him into oblivion. It didn’t help that Sam really, _really_ wanted Lucifer to fuck him into oblivion, and would be more than willing to beg for it if necessary. 

Well, if nothing else, tonight would be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry this chapter's late. School is starting up again and I'm gonna be busy. Hopefully I'm not _too_ busy, because I do want to keep writing and updating this consistently. I'm not sure what day updates will fall on. There might be a few weeks of updates on odd days, but I'll try to find a routine quickly.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! There's a bit of smut (finally starting to earn that E rating), and hopefully there'll be lots more to come.


	7. Minor Debauchery

Sam wiped his palm on his jeans for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d been a nervous wreck the whole drive over to Lucifer’s house, despite Dean’s crude reassurances that he could “totally get some if he played his cards right.” Dean had been eager to get him out of the house, but still insisted that his night in with Castiel would be completely platonic and very straight. 

Sam took a moment to hope that Castiel would be the one to finally make Dean confront the fact that he was likely into dudes as well as girls. There’d been plenty of guys interested in Dean, obviously, but Dean always insisted that his feelings went no further than good ol’ heterosexual friendship. The best thing that came out of Sam realizing he was gay was getting to look back and laugh at how oblivious he’d been when he thought he was straight, and he really hoped that he’d be able to do that with Dean someday. And, of course, because then John would be forced to admit that it wasn’t Sam’s hair or college degree turning him into one of the Gays™. 

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Sam buzzed Lucifer’s apartment, running his hands nervously over his jeans in a vain attempt to dry them off. God, what if Lucifer tried to shake his hand and had to grab Sam’s wet, clammy hand? He’d think Sam was weird. _Pull yourself together_. Sam scolded himself. _You’re fine. Lucifer isn’t going to think you’re weird. His name is Lucifer and he has multiple Satanic tattoos. He can’t judge you for having clammy hands._

“Hey, Sammy.” Lucifer said, opening the door and letting Sam in. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” Sam replied, his voice cracking slightly. God _damn_ , why did he turn into such a flustered mess whenever Lucifer was around? It was ridiculous.

“I wasn’t really sure what you’d want to eat, so I ordered a couple of pizzas. I hope that’s okay?” Lucifer asked, leading Sam inside and towards the small kitchen. “I got pepperoni, cheese, and one with peppers.”

“That’s great, thanks.” Sam replied, the smell of pizza making his stomach growl. Hey, he was health-conscious, not insane. Pizza was delicious. He snagged a couple of slices, sitting down at Lucifer’s table and inhaling his food at what was probably an indecent pace.

Lucifer sat across from him, perching so that one leg was stretched over a chair opposite him and the other was folded up under his body. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on Lucifer’s odd pose. It’d be rude, and besides, his mouth was full of pizza.

“So, you’re a tattoo virgin.” Lucifer said nonchalantly, picking a piece of pepperoni off of his pizza, curling his tongue around it before pulling it into his mouth. Sam flushed, ducking his head.

“Well, when you put it like that, yeah, I guess.” Sam said, grinning sheepishly. 

Lucifer grinned back, and there was something predatory about it that made Sam’s blood run cold. “Oooh, a virgin. Exciting. I’m glad I can be your first.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, laughing when Sam pulled a face.  
“Okay, maybe not _that_ kind of first. But still. You never got your obligatory rebellious, free-spirit tattoo in college? I thought that was something everyone did.”

“I didn’t do much in college, at least not in the way of rebellious stuff.” Sam admitted. “Honestly, going to college was enough of a rebellious act in of itself that I didn't need to do much more after that. I just went to college and let my hair get “unreasonably long”, and then didn’t get blackout drunk or anything like that. A lot of my friends did, and I definitely went overboard a few times, but never anything like a habit.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, inclining his head. “That’s fair. Michael and Castiel are the smart ones. Gabriel could’ve gone to college, but he decided that suffering through an art degree wasn’t worth it, and he could be just as successful without it.”

“What about you? Why didn’t you to go college?” Sam asked, sucking a bit of tomato sauce off his thumb. Lucifer’s eyes followed the movement, lazy and dark, but he didn’t comment. 

“Well, I didn’t think it’d really suit me.” Lucifer said, shrugging. “I prefer more immediate results, and college wasn’t conducive to that. But I’ve done well for myself without it. I mean, just look at me. I’m successful, have my own place, and have a _very_ pretty little thing in front of me.”

Sam flushed, his gaze dropping to the table. Fuck, okay, Lucifer was definitely flirting with him. _Flirt back, you idiot! Say something instead of staring at the table like a blushing virgin!_ Which he was not, thank you very much. A virgin, that is. He was definitely an idiot sometimes.

“There’s nothing little about me, Lucifer.” Sam returned, smirking despite the flush on his cheeks. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but evidently enjoying the banter.

“Oh, really, now?” Lucifer asked, his lips curling upwards in a slight smirk. “Well, I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. I’d much rather find that out for myself, thanks.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Sam asked, taking a bite of his half-finished pizza. Sex was great and all, but he was hungry, and free food was better than regular food.

“I suppose I’d like to taste those lips of yours, see what sounds you make, have you grind on my lap and beg for me to touch you, and then spend the rest of the evening making you scream my name.” Lucifer replied. “Of course, dropping to my knees and sucking you off right now does sound appealing as well, and since you seem so sure of yourself, I’d love to see what you’ve got to offer. I bet you make the prettiest sounds.” He continued, his cool-as-ice exterior completely unfazed by the filth dripping from his lips.

Sam inclined his head, enjoying the low heat of arousal spreading through his body. God, he’d missed this. Being wanted felt so damn good.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been the most vocal in bed, but you’re certainly able to try.” Sam said, allowing a note of challenge to creep into his voice. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is that a challenge, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, his tone dangerously low. Sam shrugged innocently, giving Lucifer the best set of bedroom eyes he could manage as he did so. Lucifer nodded slowly, biting his lip and slowly letting it drag over his teeth. 

“Alright.”

Sam barely had time to register that Lucifer had spoken before the other man was on his lap, stubble scraping Sam’s cheeks as Lucifer kissed him hard. Sam let out a high noise of surprise that was quickly smothered by Lucifer’s mouth on his, and tried to adjust his legs into a more comfortable position. Lucifer wasn’t heavy, but he was solid, and Sam really didn’t want to have to move from this position. Lucifer was a warm weight on top of him, his ass just barely an inch away from pressing down on Sam’s crotch.

Lucifer let out a small sigh, relaxing into the kiss. The kiss changed from insistent and hungry to something slower, softer, almost sweet. The change of pace caught Sam off-guard. His mouth lifted in a half-smile, and he pulled Lucifer closer, settling his arms comfortably around the other man’s waist. Lucifer tangled a hand in Sam’s hair, the other one coming up to stroke Sam’s jaw. Sam’s smile widened, their kisses slowing until they were barely more than a brief peck. They stopped, Lucifer’s forehead pressed against Sam’s, Sam almost cross-eyed from trying to gaze into Lucifer’s eyes.

Sweet.

It was definitely sweet.

That is, until Lucifer ground his hips down in a torturously slow movement directly on Sam’s crotch.

Sam groaned, his grip on Lucifer’s hips tightening. Lucifer chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a chill down Sam’s spine.

“So much for not being vocal, hmm, Sammy?” Lucifer smirked, nipping at Sam’s lower lip. Sam glared up at Lucifer, thrusting his hips upwards pointedly. Lucifer, the bastard, remained silent, pursing his lips thoughtfully. 

“Mmm, now, Sammy, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Lucifer chided. “I thought I made it clear that you’d be doing the begging. I don’t intend to have to ask for anything twice. Now, be a good boy and stay still, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, really?” Sam asked, pushing his chin forward defiantly. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

Lucifer winked. “Well, stay still and you might just find out, love.” Sam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stayed still. Lucifer didn’t move immediately; rather, he cocked his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Sam’s body in a detached, almost calculating manner. 

Lucifer leaned forward, teeth catching Sam’s earlobe. Sam let out a hiss before he could stop himself, baring his neck to allow Lucifer more room. He felt rather than saw Lucifer’s grin, but any sense of annoyance he felt was quickly dispelled by sparks of pleasure as Lucifer’s teeth teased the skin of his neck. Sam arched his head back, trying to get Lucifer to kiss him, bite him, mark him up, anything besides gentle scrapes of teeth against skin that were barely more than a light sting of pain. He’d never considered himself a masochist, but right now he’d rather have pain than the teasing Lucifer was currently subjected him to.

Lucifer ignored the hints Sam was giving him, and continued his maddening bites and scrapes, occasionally throwing in feather-light kisses that sent chills down Sam’s spine. It was gentle, almost sweet, in a way that made Sam’s stomach twist. He hadn’t been expecting gentle, soft kisses from a man named Lucifer who had multiple Satanic tattoos, seemingly purely out of spite. But, he had to admit, it was a nice change of pace from the spit-slick burn and cramped quickness of a lot of his college experiences.

Lucifer continued his slow pace, his hands finding their way to Sam’s shirt, undoing the buttons in lazy, unhurried motions. Sam, finally realizing that hey, maybe he shouldn’t sit here limply and let Lucifer do all the work, ran his hands up Lucifer’s thighs and up to his shirt, pulling it out of the other man’s worn jeans.

No sooner had Sam touched Lucifer’s shirt than his hands were being held in an almost painfully tight grip, pinned behind him. Sam gasped, his eyes widening in confusion and pain, looking up plaintively at Lucifer. 

“Did I not tell you to be still?” Lucifer asked, his tone carefully measured. Realization dawned on Sam, and he nodded frantically. Lucifer nodded slowly, his tongue resting on his lower lip. “Did you not understand my instructions?” He asked, in the same measured tone. Sam sucked in a breath, gnawing his lower lip. _Shit_ , that tone of voice sent hot sparks of lust down to pool in his stomach, and despite the implication that he’d fucked up, Sam wanted nothing more than for Lucifer to keep talking him like that.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Lucifer asked, his breath ghosting over Sam’s neck. Sam shuddered, tilting his head back to give Lucifer more access to his neck. “Because I’d hate to have to repeat myself, Sammy. I’d appreciate it very much if you could be nice and still for me, and let me hear every pretty noise that comes out of those lips of yours. Do you think you can do that for me, Sammy?” 

Sam nodded desperately, his breath coming in quick huffs. Lucifer’s lips curled into a grin, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s neck. He leaned back, shamelessly grinding his hips down, making Sam let out a loud groan. Damn, that was good. And damn Lucifer for not letting Sam move. He wanted to touch Lucifer so bad it hurt.

A small part of Sam’s brain reminded him that strictly speaking, there was nothing actually stopping him from touching Lucifer. He could touch him; hell, if he wanted to, he could pick Lucifer up, carry him to the couch, and pin him down. Sam ignored that part of his brain. Lucifer had told him to keep still, and Sam would be damned if he lost the opportunity to be with Lucifer because he couldn’t sit still for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, the task of keeping still was proving a lot harder than Sam had thought. It wouldn’t have been nearly as hard - _heh, hard_ \- if Lucifer wasn’t such a bastard. Sam wasn’t sure if it was laziness or a desire to tease that was making Lucifer’s motions so unhurried. Sam had never considered himself a particularly impatient person, but he was going crazy. He would’ve been fine if Lucifer had just picked something and stuck with it, but no. One minute he was grinding down on Sam, the friction slow and delicious; the next, his hips stilled and he was trailing kisses down Sam’s neck and torso. It was wonderful, awful, mind-blowing _torture_.

“Lucifer.” Sam growled, his hands curling around Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer made a high, amused noise, and stopped completely, smiling smugly down at Sam.

“Yes, dearest?” He asked sweetly. Sam glared up at him, which only made Lucifer’s grin wider. He reminded Sam of the Cheshire Cat, in a weird way, but remarking on that wouldn’t get Lucifer to fuck him any faster, so Sam kept it to himself.

“Do you plan on doing anything other than teasing me?” Sam asked, not bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice. Lucifer cocked his head to the side, tapping his mouth with a finger.

“No.” He said, smiling brightly. “In fact,” He stretched out across Sam’s lap, which was an admirable feat of contortionism, but couldn’t have been comfortable. “I don’t plan on doing anything to you until you agree to some conditions.”

Sam blinked. That was...kinky. Okay. “Uh, okay?” He said, a little hesitant. “What?”

Lucifer grinned, cat-like. “Firstly, you need to agree to go to dinner with me. A real dinner, not drinks or pizza. Secondly, we do need to actually discuss you getting a tattoo, since that’s kinda what we’re supposed to be doing. And thirdly-” He paused, looking at Sam with the slightest trace of apprehension. “You need to agree to be my boyfriend.”

Sam blinked, shocked. Woah. Okay. That was...not kinky. But he could handle that. Lucifer...wanted him to be his boyfriend? Okay. Yeah. That was good. Sam liked him. Yeah.

“Okay.”

Lucifer brightened. “Really? That easy? I thought I was gonna have to suck your dick at least to make you agree to that.”

Sam laughed. “Why? Are you that surprised that I like you?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, I’m gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to have me. I’m surprised an ambulance-chaser like you didn’t try to argue me into some terrible contract or something. You lot are so untrusting.”

Sam scowled. “Don’t make me change my mind.” He threatened, but he was smiling. Yeah, okay, Lucifer was his boyfriend now. That was good. That was really good, actually. 

“I can still suck your dick, though, if you want.” Lucifer offered casually, snaking a hand down to palm at Sam’s crotch. Sam inhaled sharply, glaring at Lucifer. 

“Rude.”

“I don’t hear you saying no.” Lucifer said in a sing-song voice, continuing to palm him. Sam rolled his eyes, trying to seem aloof and uninterested even though he was growing steadily harder.

“If you insist.” He grumbled. Lucifer grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Excellent. You won’t regret it.” Lucifer promised, kissing Sam hard.

“I’d better not.” Sam muttered, wrapping a hand around Lucifer’s waist, pulling him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm back! This was supposed to be smut, but then it was already a really long chapter and smut is very time-consuming and difficult for me to write, so I figured it should get my ass in gear and post this and get around to smut later. 
> 
> So no smut this chapter. There'll be smut next chapter. 
> 
> But yes hello I am back sorry for the long-ass wait and I hope you enjoyed this chapter


End file.
